The Gesture
by ms hearse
Summary: If you associate with evil, you become evil. AU
1. Granger Loves Knowledge

_I wanted to write a story that showed that just because something is done with a good heart, doesn´t mean that it is good. Love is the beginning and the end of this story, but it is motivated by, and moved along by, that which is inevitably evil. What we love is who we are. Some of us are not very deep, and some of us are drowning in ourselves._

_Anyone can fall. Perfection is subjective. If you associate with evil, you become evil._

_I would like to thank once more my lovely beta-reader. She is amazing. _

_The motivational music for this story was Rammstein. _

_Enjoy._

_---_

_The Gesture_

_Chapter 1: Granger Loves Knowledge_

She took in a deep breath and shook aside her fear. He was only a man, just as any other man, with two eyes and two hands and one heart. Why he troubled her, or any other student for that matter, was really a puzzlement; was it the crooked nose, a sign of previous abuse, or the greasy hair, a sign of self-neglect, or perhaps that soothingly sharp tongue, the sign of the snake? Why should he be feared above the other professors?

She swallowed the wallop of spit that had collected inside her throat. He was to be feared because he wanted to be feared; because he made it clear that he had no real desire to be messed with.

But she was in need of improvement, and he was the only person who would understand that need.

He walked quickly through the hallway, so she knew if this was her moment to ask, she had to be equally quick about it. She rushed in front of him, stopping him in his tracks, his eyes glaring down at her from their sunken depths. His seemed so much taller than she remembered as he towered over her.

"Ahem, sir," she said, "I was wondering..."

"Yes," he said in his characteristicly distant manner.

"Sir, I, I, um..."

He rolled his eyes as if to say "another pathetic student." It made her straighten her back and remember her cause.

"I was wondering if you could tutor me, sir," she said finally.

She dared herself to look up into his eyes, to see his expression, and saw just what she thought she would: exactly the same expression he had worn before she asked, as though he had not heard her. She sighed a little to herself. Maybe it wasn't the best idea after all.

"I would think a know-it-all would be fully capable of finding the answers on her own," he said.

"I can. I do," she said. "But I don't want to be good, I want to be the best. I don't want anything in the way of getting where I want in life."

He waved his hand in front of her to quiet her down, a look of detest upon his face.

"I have no interest in _tutoring_ you, or anyone else for that matter," he said as he pushed past her.

She watched him walk away with a feeling of disappointment, though not an entirely unexpected feeling at that. She checked her watch. It was the weekend, so there were no classes, but it was likely that her friends were stuck in the Library until noon. They were often sent there as a mild disipline for failing exams, of which they did often.

She headed in that direction, wondering if there was any other professor worthy of asking for help. But as she entered the Library, half filled with students, both studious and goofing around, she had not come up with a better option.

"Hermione!" squeeled a shrill voice, followed by hushing from around the room.

Ron and Harry giggled in the far corner, their hands over their mouths and books closed. She wasn't entirely certain why she liked either of them, really, but now that the damage was done, that the friendships were made, she supposed she ought to keep to them.

She started to walk to them, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. It made her jump. She turned around so fast, she almost lost her footing.

It was Snape.

"You scared me," she said.

"I've changed my mind," he said, ignoring her fright.

She held her breath.

"I am not guarenteeing anything at any time. When I say we're done, we're done."

"Yes sir."

"My current engagement has been cancelled, so we will start now," he said, turning on his heels and walking out of the Study Hall in a bit of a rush.

She looked back at Harry and Ron, who had stopped their giggling to gawk; it had seemed that the entire room was gawking at her then, though perhaps they all did. She straightened up, head held high, and followed Snape out.

She had to hurry to catch up with him, but just as she had, he stopped and turned to her there in the middle of the empty hallway.

"Was Potter angry that you left with me?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I think he was," she said. "Ron as well."

He seemed pleased by her answer. It concerned her.

She was not daft, or dim, and could tell that this was going to be more than she had bargained for. She sought knowledge, but he sought something further: to reel in the bait for jealousy.

It absolutely reeked of trouble.

---

Draco was easily bored. He preferred to wander the hallways alone during the weekends, apart from his bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. Mostly, he just liked to eavesdrop, and the big oafs never could do it right.

It was fascinating what type of crud he could find out about Hogwarts when he bothered to listen.

He walked slowly through the hallways as the light outside grew dark. He held his hand out to touch every in and out of the walls as he passed by them. At every open door, he stopped to listen; indeed, at every closed door, he stopped to listen. And whilst he walked, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of his hand against the wall, if the unruliness of the hallway allowed.

He wandered in and out of all the familiar passages of the dungeons, but found nothing of interest.

He sighed and headed back to his common room. He would try again tomorrow night.

---

She sat down in the only chair open to her. Snape sat in the one behind his desk. His face was stern and unmoving, unkind; it was not uncommon for him, but still somehow a fright to see.

She pulled from her book bag a list that she had prepared earlier on, with questions she had scribbled on it in haste. Snape rolled his eyes slightly at the sight of it. He was not amused.

She inquired first of the Swelling Solution. He spoke rather monotone, no real interest in his voice or face; just rattled out an answer as though he was in front of the class, giving a lecture.

She tried to keep up, her feather pen and little bottle of ink unable to keep the pace. Snape did not backtrack, or restate anything, so what she wrote was all she got.

When he stopped talking, he sat staring at the wall behind her, not waiting for another question, but rather waiting for her to leave. She did not play along. She checked her list and asked the next question written there. It continued like that for the next few questions: his puppet-like answers, and her desperate attempt to write it all down.

But before she could get to her seventh question, which was not by far the last, he stopped staring at the wall and looked at her for the first time since being in the office.

"It's late," he said. "I've had enough."

Hermione packed her bag and stood, but did not leave.

"I wasn't done with my questions," she said.

"Bugger off."

"When can we do this again?" she asked.

"Are your friends waiting up for you?" he asked suddenly.

"I suppose they are, yes."

He sat a moment, pondering something, then looked back up at her.

"Sit back down then," he said.

"Sir?"

"We still have questions to get to, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," she said, pulling her supplies from her bag once more, elated.

And she stayed, scribbling as fast as she could, while trying to keep it legible, until the hour passed curfew. She stayed until Snape could no longer handle her presence, and kicked her out.


	2. Potter Loves Normalcy

_Chapter 2: Potter Loves Normalcy_

Neville was never any good at directions. He could have a map, a compass, and a guide, and he would still manage to lose his way. So it didn't surprise him when he took a wrong turn, or maybe two, and found himself facing the Slytherin flags in the dungeons. The depiction of the snake teased him, sticking its tongue out at him. He stuck out his own tongue and scratched his head. How was he ever going to find his way back?

Turning down a hallway that seemed to go toward upward stairs, he could hear whispering not far from where he stood. He stopped moving and held his breath, scared of being caught in the Slytherin realm. The voices came from a nearby door, which was partially opened. Letting out his breath, he tip-toed to the door and peeked in.

It was Snape and Malfoy Sr. They were discussing something very quietly, something that, as he listened in, made his eyes widen in fright.

He had to get out of there before they found them. He had to tell the Order. But as he spun around, there was someone there, someone wearing green and silver colours.

Draco grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall in a surprisingly quiet manner.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, his wand pointed right at Neville's nose.

"I-I-got los-lost," Neville stuttered.

"Why are you eavesdropping? Did you hear anything?" Draco asked.

Neville could feel himself shake beneath the pressure.

"I…no!" he said.

Draco grinned. He muttered a silencing charm under his breath and gave Neville one last shove against the wall before letting him go.

"I'm watching you, Longbottom. Not a word."

---

Hermione returned the following night with a whole new list of questions. Snape agreed to see her, but was not thrilled to see the new, longer, list she produced from her book bag.

She started with one near the bottom; something about the method used to stir potions. She didn't write his answer down. It didn't matter. She already knew the answer. She simply wanted to break him in a little.

When he was done speaking, she eyed her list again, choosing one a little more interesting.

"Apart from your obvious talent, why did you decide to be a Potions Master?"

Snape didn't break his straight-wood stature, but he did hesitate a little.

"Interest?"

"Weren't you interested in other things, though?" she asked.

"No," he said, "what is _your_ interest in the matter?"

She shrugged. He raised his eyebrows in question.

She proceeded with another school-related topic, and listened as he answered. He still put forth his usual crude demeanor, and still gave her the chills, but that night, he also had a bit of a twinkle in his eye. It wasn't something that she could really explain. Perhaps she´d caught him on a good day.

At least, she hoped she had.

"Why would you want to become a Death Eater?" she asked next, cautiously.

He froze in his seat, breath and all.

"What is the true purpose of this _tutoring_?" he asked solemnly.

"I'm just trying to get to know you," she said.

She knew it wasn't bright. In fact, she knew it was downright awful of her to try to get into his brain this way, but the temptation was just too great. Who had the opportunity to have much one-on-one time with an actual genius, albeit a bad-tempered one, like Snape? To get into his mind on a more personal level, to really see the man for what he was: she simply could not resist trying.

"Are your friends waiting up for you again?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Were they upset last night by the late hour?"

She nodded again.

"I will only answer what I find appropriate about my life," he said, "but I'll let you ask anything you want. But you must stay the entire night."

She could hardly contain the excitement inside her. She could see right through it. He wanted to irritate Harry. He wanted it to seem as though their relationship was leaning on the inappropriate in order to poke under Harry's skin.

It didn't bother her; not as much as she would have expected, or as much as it should have. She had an entire night to dig into Snape's personal life, to dig into the brain of a genius. The chance of a lifetime.

"That sounds just fine," she said.

---

Harry was suspicious. He didn't like how much time Hermione was spending with Snape; the late nights, passed her curfew. He would wait up for her, concerned and curious, but each time her arrival had been after he had fallen asleep. He would wake up to the morning light, or to Ron dragging him up the stairs to bed.

He didn't like it.

He sat in the Great Hall, listening to Hermione speak of her latest night with the professor, or, rather, the _pervert_. She had so much to say and not enough breath to say it in, her blush giving her feelings away.

"You shouldn't be allowed to be alone with him like that after curfew," he said.

"I know you're worried," she said, "but it's completely innocent. He's _trying_ to make you squirm. It's all very childish."

But Harry wasn't convinced.

He saw her blush a deeper shade of red as Snape walked up to the table where they sat and hovered over her like a great big, deadly bat.

"Miss Granger," he said, giving Harry a quick smirk, "I need you to meet me in my office tonight."

Harry glared at him as he spoke.

"It's so nice to have a dedicated student," Snape continued, his eyes focused straight at Harry. "One so willing to learn, even staying up all night with me to do so."

Harry knew it had nothing to do with dedication. He was rubbing it in. He was poking his stick at Harry, waiting for him to poke back. But he couldn't help but fall right into the trap.

Hermione couldn't stop blushing. It made Harry nauseous. He stood up to leave, but not before Neville came running into the Great Hall, almost knocking Harry down.

Neville shied away from Snape until he left for the teachers' table. He seemed frantic, but would not speak. He opened up his mouth and moved his lips, but no words came forth.

"I know a silencing charm when I see one," said Hermione. "Come on, outside."

When they were safely gathered in the courtyard outside of the Great Hall, she pulled out her wand and muttered a counter charm. Neville thanked her with a hug, of which she had not expected and did not, therefore, reciprocate.

"Harry, I have to see the Order," Neville said, "and quickly!"

"Hold on, who put the silencing charm on you?" Hermione asked.

But Neville ignored her.

"I have to see them, and without Dumbledore. Can you take me, Harry?"

No one seemed to understand, especially not Harry. But he had never seen Neville so unapologetic and demanding. It sent a chill up through his spine.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said. "Right away."


	3. Black Loves Adventure

_Chapter 3: Black Loves Adventure_

He was bitter. He sat alone in the old and wilting House of Black and sulked. Wasn't he just as capable, if not more so, of handling the task? Wasn't he skilled? Wasn't he worthy?

But instead, he had been voted to stay behind, to keep everything in line; which was the official position for doing nothing more than sitting and sulking and making sure the house elf kept to his chores. It was insulting that Sirius would be given this position when he should have been out fighting.

He waited, occasionally reaching out beyond himself to wonder how the task was proceeding.

And then there was the sound of the doorknob rattling and footsteps in the hallway. It was too early for the Order's return, and too quiet for an enemy invasion. He slowly stood up, watching the door to the kitchen. It opened.

And from behind the door came forth Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville!

"Friends!" Sirius exclaimed. "Who should be at school."

He grabbed Harry and pulled him near.

"Where is everyone?" asked Hermione.

"Off on a mission," he answered. "What can I do for you?"

"Neville said he needed to tell the Order something."

"Without Dumbledore," Neville chimed in.

"I see," said Sirius. "Well, there is no Dumbledore here, as you can see."

Neville looked nervously at his colleagues. Sirius nodded and took Neville aside, away from their earshot.

The boy took a deep breath and shook his hands to try to gain courage.

"What is it?"

"Dumbledore can't be trusted," Neville said.

"I know he's a little off," Sirius began, but Neville stopped him.

"I overheard Mr Malfoy and Snape talking to each other. Something about a prophecy. That the Order was going to steal it, and that it would be secretly handed over to the Death Eaters."

"And that means that Dumbledore is at fault? I don't understand," said Sirius, putting on a stern face. "But I had a feeling that Snape was up to something."

"That's what I thought too," said Neville. "But then Draco caught me eavesdropping, and put a silencing charm on me. But I was still lost. I decided to follow Draco in case he was heading out of the dungeons.

"But he didn't leave. He waited nearby until Snape left, and followed him! So I, I decided to follow Draco, as he followed Snape.

"Snape, he, he didn't go far. Dumbledore was waiting for him. Snape told him everything about the conversation with Malfoy. Apparently, Vol-Volde… Um."

"Voldemort?" offered Sirius.

Neville nodded.

"_He_ was 'anxiously awaiting the day that he and Dumbledore would meet on better terms,' as he put it. And Dumbledore was really pleased. He said that he would tell the Order their next direction, and that Snape needed to send Vo- _him _his 'unabashed' love."

That struck a chord with Sirius. He knew that Albus was attracted to men with stature.

He almost knocked Neville down as he jetted past him in a hurry. He ran into the fireplace and threw down his handful of Floo powder, yelling out for the Ministry. The House of Black, and the faces of the curious children, disappeared from his view as he was sent on his way.

He ran through the hallways of the Ministry, empty due to the weekend, until he reached the doors of the Department of Mysteries, all along yelling at the top of his lungs to retreat.

He knew it was tricky: there were the posts that were set up by the Order, and then there were the security wizards set up by the Ministry. But he also knew that they had to get out of there quickly.

Suddenly there was screaming and spells being thrown over his head. He pulled out his wand and threw a few spells back.

"Abandon it! Get back to headquarters!" he yelled.

And when they did not all come running out of the Department of Mysteries, he grew frantic, screaming at the Order, without specific name-calling, to return the prophecy and get back to headquarters.

The place was in a sudden frenzy. One by one each member of the Order came forth from the Department door, running to the fireplaces for safety. Sirius counted each as they passed, whilst he hid behind a giant column for protection.

When the last member had passed him, he followed and flung himself into a fireplace, hitting hard against the back brick.

He looked around him, finally back at his family's house: some were wounded, but with nothing serious.

"What was that about?" yelped Lupin.

"We had the prophecy! We had to go back a ways to put it back," said Tonks. "What's happened?"

"It appears," said Sirius, "that Dumbledore isn't clean. It was a trap. One we walked right into."


	4. Dumbledore Loves Stature

_Chapter 4: Dumbledore Loves Stature_

To The Order of the Phoenix;

I know that the operation at the Ministry of Magick was "cancelled," which means that you have all learned about my latest connection with Voldemort. And so it is with great regret that I will leave, if only for awhile, until things settle themselves out.

Minerva McGonagall is to be put in charge of Hogwarts during my absence. She will be good and just as headmistress.

In case anyone has sympathy for an old, lonely man, I will hereto explain the reasoning behind my actions.

It is already public knowledge that I had once befriended the young Grindelwald, but what wasn't widely known was that I was in fact very much in love with him as well. But Grindelwald broke my heart.

Young Tom Riddle was so much like Grindelwald, in so many ways, and I found myself taking a deep interest in his education. As he grew up, I saw more similarities between him and my former lover. It scared me to a point, for the choices that Grindelwald had made in his life, and the potential that Riddle had to follow in his path. But it had also thrilled me.

I had asked Riddle many times to join me, but he claimed that he could never view me in any romantic way. And when Riddle chose to become Lord Voldemort, to follow a darker course than I had taught him to take, whatever connection we had had then split and we grew apart.

It wasn't that long ago that I received an invitation, of sorts, from Voldemort himself. He had finally decided to let me be a part of his life. He had opened up to me.

I knew it was a bad decision, but I had been so terribly lonely for so long, and so I accepted the invitation.

After a time, it became clear to me that he had used me; that he wanted to see how far I would go for his love. Too involved at that point to stop, I agreed to help him. I secretly sent the Order to do Lord Voldemort's work, in ways that meant no one should have caught on.

I am not proud of any of it. I beg for your forgiveness. But I must inform you all also that even with forgiveness, I cannot turn against my love again.

I will stay in hiding until there is a way for me to return.

My dearest apologies.

Dumbledore.

---

Hermione was quiet after the letter had been read. It had been found shortly after the retreat, on the doorstep of the House of Black, brought in by the house elf. She wasn't sure how Dumbledore had been informed so quickly of the retreat, but it did not seem unlikely for him. He always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else.

Sirius spat on the note.

"I will not carry the name of Dumbledore anymore. I declare a departure from his lead!" he said exasperated. "Who's with me?"

"From now on, Dumbledore is just as evil a name as Voldemort," said Kingsley.

Every eye turned to each other, a bit frightful and a bit uncertain. But one by one all members agreed, both by vote and by spitting on the note, except for two: Harry and Hermione.

Hermione couldn't make herself spit. She found her mouth to be dry and cracked.

"I just can't agree," she said.

She felt all eyes on her, making the bubbling in her stomach turn to a raging boil.

"No respect should be held out to him," she continued, "but he should not be banished just like that. He reacted to an invitation of love, not domination. It's unlike Voldemort to offer such a thing, so Dumbledore must have been hopeful for a turnaround. I just don't think that Dumbledore should be punished for love, even if it isn't completely understood why it exists in the first place."

She could feel herself warm with debate. And although she knew she spoke of Dumbledore, she couldn´t help but picture Snape. It wasn´t love. It wasn´t even _like_. It was something she couldn´t put a name to. She had delved into a place where very few were allowed to go: his mind. And what she found there was herself.

And no matter how she turned it around in her head, she knew that no one would understand. That is why Dumbledore did not offend her. That is why she opposed.

She understood.

"They stand for opposites in ideology," she continued, "but there is still something there. Even if Voldemort used him in the end, we can't be certain that he didn't act out some sort of inner need for affection. Just because we don't understand it, doesn't mean it has to be wrong."

"Dumbledore stood for Light, and Voldemort stood for Dark, and light and dark just don't mix, no matter how hard you try," said Sirius.

"I agree," said Harry, "but we also can't banish him either. Dumbledore was the beginning of the Order, and a major influence. It would be wrong to throw him out for one mistake."

"A big mistake, mind you," said Lupin.

"But only one," said Harry. "When has he ever let us down before? Can't we allow one slip?"

Hermione nodded, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him closer.

"Isn't it Voldemort's policy to push away at the first sign of weakness?" she asked. "What about _our _policy?

"What about forgiveness?"


	5. Malfoy Loves Grandeur

_Chapter 5: Malfoy Loves Grandeur_

It was a big day. His father had towed him along for the show, though not entirely against his will. He wanted Draco to witness the destruction of their Lord's greatest enemy, in order, he was told, to become a true man in the sight of his father.

Draco stood beside him then, and all the other Death Eaters, waiting anxiously.

Dumbledore had shown up, asking for the Dark Lord. His robes were not as fresh as they could be, and his eyes did not contain the usual spark, but he was there.

The Death Eaters stood in a circle around the two of them: Dumbledore standing motionless, even breathless, it seemed, and Voldemort circling him in inspection.

"The Order found out about us," Dumbledore said softly. "I ask only for shelter and an open relationship to work upon. If I have your heart, then I will follow you willingly."

"Your love is sweet, old man," said the Dark Lord, "but too sweet for me, a man of tastes far bitter than your honey."

He laughed.

"Do you know what I find funny, old man?" he continued. "If you truly do lack your influence on Hogwarts and on the Order, your secret lovechild, then you are of no real use to _me_. Do you see how that works?"

Draco could feel the Death Eaters' eagerness rise. He knew they wanted him dead. He wanted it himself. His father nudged his elbows hard into his side, trying to calm him. Draco straightened the robe that hid his face, and tried to tame his wild heart.

"You have caused me a lot of trouble," said Voldemort. "But…"

He turned lightly on his heel, eyeing each Death Eater individually, as if seeking permission. But Draco knew he must have been misinterpreting it, for Voldemort did not need to ask permission: he simply did as he wished. But when he reached Draco, it seemed to be just that, and it sent a chill up his spine.

"I will show mercy on you," he said. "Never show your face again, or I will not be as gracious."

Voldemort eyed everyone once more, as if daring them to question him, then left. Bellatrix, his pet, followed closely behind him, though uninvited to do so.

Dumbledore Apparated before another word could be said, but quickly after his disappearance, there was an uproar from the Death Eaters. Draco felt himself chime in.

"How could he just let him go?! His greatest enemy!"

"He's grown weak."

"He doesn't _really_ love him _does he_?!"

"I wanted some blood!"

Lucius held up his arms to calm down the rustle of the group.

"Our Lord is obviously weak," he said. "And I will not be a part of it."

"I'm with you!" yelled a voice.

"Me too!"

"And me!"

But Draco did not agree. His anger was great at the Dark Lord's choice to set Dumbledore free, but he simply could not deny everything that he was raised to believe. Even if his own father no longer believed in it.

"I think you're the ones who are weak," Draco said. "I'll stand by my Lord."

Lucius grabbed him then, curled up his fingers and shoved his fist into Draco's mouth as far as he could. Wallops of tears formed in Draco's eyes and burst through, down his cheeks from the pain.

"You will do as I say," Lucius said, "or you will be quiet."

Draco nodded fiercely.

---

To The Order of the Phoenix;

It has come to our attention that your headmaster and foreman, Albus Dumbledore, has assumed a life of disgrace among his admirers, to bow before the Dark Lord in reverence. In the many years of the Dark Lord's reign, never did we suspect such an outcome, as you, yourselves, perhaps never dreamed as well. The very idea announces to us Voldemort's increasing strength and vitality; such liveliness which must be stopped.

He has been tainted by the very thing he set out to destroy: love and honour. We were all witnesses to Dumbledore's humbling, _and release_. We are still loyal followers of the old ways. That may never change. The Dark Lord, however, has lost His sense of leadership among us.

We propose a treaty.

If the Order will join together with our small few, we will unite our causes. We will help hunt down and destroy Voldemort if you help do the same for Dumbledore. Under no other proposal will we agree to meet. Kill Voldemort. Kill Dumbledore.

If you are satisfied with our offer, reply immediately, for time is of the essence. Our lives depend upon it. Our secrets die with us.

The Death Eaters

---

Sirius stood face to face with Lucius. The Forbidden Forest stretched out its ugly trees, threatening to engulf them.

"How can you be trusted?" said Sirius.

"How can _you_?" Lucius replied cheekily.

"It seems we are in a similar situation," said Sirius.

"Indeed it does," said Lucius. "Which is why we should join our forces. For ours is a common goal. I propose we join societies, but only for a time, until both enemies are, shall we say, taken care of.

"We could kill Voldemort alone, but we'd never be able to find Dumbledore. If the Order helped to first track down and kill Dumbledore, then we promise to help you kill Voldemort."

Sirius took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had never sounded so easy, so perfect, and yet so poisonous as this. Knowing that he did not lead the Order in any real way, he took a step back and confided in his friends. But they were just as desperate as him.

Sirius took another deep breath.

"We agree."

"Good!" said Lucius, pleased. "Here are the rules: Dumbledore is to be found first. No acceptation. The Death Eaters who are still loyal to Voldemort will come next, that way Voldemort will have no one to help him.

"Dumbledore and Voldemort will be attacked by brute force. We prefer that Dumbledore dies first, that way we know that you are serious about your commitment, but if it comes to the Dark Lord's death first, so be it."

"Is that all?" asked Sirius.

"Do you have more?"

"When our commitment is fulfilled," he said, "our union is disconnected, and any memory of our working together forgotten. We don't want to be associated with Death Eaters."

"Fair enough."

"Right."

"Anything else?"

"The Death Eaters cannot act without the Order. If something happens, the Order must be notified at once. And we are not allowed to attack each other. We are now a team, not enemies, and we should act like one."

"Very well put," said Lucius with a teasing tone to his voice.

"Agreed?"

"Agreed."


	6. Voldemort Loves Control

_Chapter 6: Voldemort Loves Control_

Harry and Hermione walked through the streets of Dumbledore's childhood, Godrics Hollow. Harry knew, somehow, that Dumbledore would be there.

He was right.

"I'm not surprised you found me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I know it isn't a great hiding place, but I just had to come back to where it all started, if only one last time."

"I figured," said Harry.

"In light of all that's happened," said Hermione, "it only makes sense that you'd be drawn here."

Dumbledore smiled, but it was dull and lifeless. It was hard for Harry to see the man he used to know buried in the layers of sadness that he now wore. There was no real twinkle, or life left in him.

They walked the streets in silence for awhile, just the three of them.

---

Lucius could feel the tension in the air. The Dark Lord had called for a meeting in the Forbidden Forest, but had yet to arrive. The Death Eaters stood in two half circles; on one side stood the loyal, and on the other side stood the traitorous.

Bellatrix spoke first. She extended an arm and pointed her stiff, dirty little finger at Lucius.

"You are unworthy of being called a Death Eater. How dare you turn against the Dark Lord."

Her finger turned to a few others then.

"All of you," she said. "He is no fool. Do you think he does not know of your deceit?"

"And what proof do you have, Bella?" someone called out.

"What proof do I need?" she said.

"Is that all?" mocked Lucius. "Quiet down then."

"I've overheard you talking," she said with an evil grin. "Even if the Dark Lord does not yet know, he will once I tell him what you've been up to!"

She pulled out her wand in threat. Lucius chuckled.

"Does it feel good to be his little tattletale, Bella? Does it feel good to rat out your fellow brothers? Does it get you any closer to romancing him?"

She shrieked in anger and charged towards him with her wand upright and ready. He withdrew his wand just in time to shield off her coming spell.

"You dare attack me?" he yelled. "Crabbe, call the Order. This must come to an end."

"The Order!" screamed Bella. "What? Can't you handle me alone?"

It did not take long for the Order to arrive. They came prepared to fight.

And fight they did.

Lucius was hit a few times by _Everte Statum_, but always got his footing back. He fought with pride: his head high and posture tight. He was aware of a few Cruciatus Curses flying around, but did well to avoid casting them himself, for the chaos of the moment would have nicked his aim.

When the Loyal few were finally subdued, they were tied up against the trunks of the trees. All, that is, except Snape. Lucius himself had tied him up, but when Black saw it, he removed him from his confines.

"What is this?" Lucius asked. "I know a Loyal when I see one."

"Then you must be blind," said Sirius. "Snape is, and always has been, part of the Order."

"What?" yelled a voice from a tree trunk.

Lucius could feel nothing but his rage begin to boil. It was one thing to decide as a group that their Lord was weakening, at the demonstration of weakness, but it was quite another thing to admit to early, individual disloyalty, and at the height of Voldemort's reign.

"A double agent?" he asked, trying to keep himself from yelling.

"Traitor!"

"Fool!"

Someone threw a rock at Snape, who ducked, but did not flinch. Then the forest filled with voices of anger and screams and threats of physical abuse, whilst the Order members tried desperately to grasp what was happening.

With what must have been the tenth rock thrown his way, Snape opted to leave, and escaped into the forest.

Lucius didn't send anyone after him.

"How dare you," said a voice unfamiliar to Lucius, who turned around to see the angry faces of the Order members.

"You have broken our rules," said Sirius. "We don't attack our own."

With that, Black turned his wand to the captured Death Eaters and killed them, one by one. The demonstration enraged Lucius.

"You want to play then, Black?" he said. "Let's see how brave you really are."

He sent an _Everte Statum_ out as fast as he could say the words, and it hit Sirius flat in the chest, knocking him back. It only took a moment for the rest of them to join in: natural enemies given the okay to attack. They fought hard and cold, with spells that made impacts.

By the time Voldemort arrived at the scene, there were five total who had already tasted the bite of death.

Voldemort watched in awe until all realised he was present and ceased their spell-casting, like children caught in a food-fight. When all was quiet again, he clapped.

"Well done," he said. "Well done. To think that I had expected to see my friends waiting for me to show, not knowing that they were in fact perfecting their skills.

"But probably the best surprise, is finding the Order of the Phoenix performing the killing curse. How marvelous! Tell me, how does it feel to hold that kind of power, to look into the eyes of another human being, and decide for them whether they should live or die? Does it feel good? _Does it feel good?_"

"Well," said Sirius, "I'm looking into your eyes now, and all I see is death!"

"I accept the challenge," he said, bowing.

The fighting continued, this time directed to the Dark Lord, who was far too powerful a wizard to take on individually. They all worked together, or what was left of them, for their common cause, their common goal.

And perhaps Voldemort would have won, had he arrived just a little later and had a smaller group to fight off. But as it was, even his immense power could not contain the group of highly trained fighters, all with the aim of beating him to a pulp. He was seized, kicked, spit upon, and killed.

His last words were, "I die now, but I will return!"

His last sound was laughter: the laughter of a madman, who faced his death at last.


	7. Snape Loves Revenge

_Chapter 7: Snape Loves Revenge_

Dumbledore wasn´t the only one acting funny. Harry started to complain of headaches, which would go in and out of intensity throughout the evening. When they were strongest, he pulled himself away emotionally, occasionally taking a walk by himself, until they settled.

When Harry's headaches turned to migraines, Dumbledore sunk further into himself, slumping down on the pavement. Hermione tried to comfort him, but all he wanted to do was talk about Grindelwald and growing up. It was frustrating, really, and she wondered what they were doing there in the first place.

His rant turned into a mumble, and she could no longer hear him. But she had bigger problems then.

Harry´s headache was so intense that he was throwing himself wildly around in the empty, dark street, and screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Make it stop!" he yelled.

Hermione gripped onto Dumbledore for support. She had never been scared of Harry before, and wasn't sure how to deal with the feeling now. Harry bent down and picked up a few rocks, which he threw in frustration.

The headmaster didn't seem to notice much. He looked up once, but just bowed his head back down between his knees and continued to mumble on about childhood.

"Sir," she asked uncertain, "what's happening to him?"

He shook his head.

"The end is near."

"I don't understand, what does that mean?" she asked, ducking from another rock thrown her way.

"Harry's scar is taking over," he said. "Which means that Voldemort must be dead."

He lowered his head again at the mention of it. She wanted to shake him and tell him that there would be more chances for love, that he did not have to be alone, but she couldn't guarantee him anything, so it seemed wrong to say somehow.

Harry, after finishing his latest fit, bent down and hit the ground in frustration.

"Why can't I control myself?" he yelled to no one in particular.

He placed his hands over his head and ears and tried to shake it out of him.

"What's happening to me? I see images. So many images."

Hermione cautiously stood up and walked over to Harry, who was huddled up in the street. She touched his back and patted him lightly.

"What kind of images?" she asked.

"Like I'm in my rightful place," he said, "when I replace _him_."

He pointed straight at Dumbledore with a steady hand. It sent a chill up Hermione's spine. It was then that she saw Harry's eyes in the dimness of the streetlight. They were shot, blood-red, and evil.

She jumped back.

"Dumbledore!" she screamed as she saw what was in Harry's other hand. "Tell me what to do. I don't know what to do!"

"Harry is the last horcrux, Hermione," Dumbledore said softly, not bothering to look up at the wand aimed at his head. "He contains the last piece of Voldemort's soul."

Harry screamed, feeling the onset of another migraine. It was taking over him, coming quicker and stronger each round. He dropped his wand then while he convulsed from the pain. But that didn't stop him.

He charged after Dumbledore, who seemed too far away in his own mourning to care. Harry wrapped his hands around the man's neck and forced out his aggression on him.

Hermione could not stop it. She wrapped herself around Harry's back and pulled, but he did not budge. She choked Harry in return, but he did not flinch. She kicked Harry, but he did not move. In all the excitement, she forgot the most useful tool of all: her wand.

She just watched as Dumbledore died under his hands. It was as though a knife had been driven into her chest.

But Harry's anger was not filled by Dumbledore's death alone. He quickly turned his attention to her, with hands outstretched, ready to find their grip on her neck.

She screamed and tried to run, but he tackled her and held her firmly to the ground. His hands were warm and determined, compressing her throat with their force. She kicked and flailed her arms, but it was no use. He was stronger than her physically, and had her pinned.

"Why me?" she mouthed.

He smiled crookedly.

"You don't think I know whose side you're on?" he asked. "You don't spend hours with Snape just for the fun of it!"

She tried to tell him that he had it all wrong, that it was completely innocent. She tried to say that he was crazy to even bring it up at a time like this. But she couldn't. She could feel herself lose consciousness, feel her breath leave her for good.

But before she passed out, a shadow spread over Harry, and he shot up in surprise before falling limp upon her.

The shadow moved the body off of her and picked her up from off the ground.

---

Sirius was still alive, though barely. There were only a few others left. Voldemort had fought well and had killed many. He held his head, partly to control the pounding ache there, and partly to try to figure out what had just happened. And although he held his palms over his ears, he could still hear the remaining Death Eaters talk.

They recognised that with Voldemort gone, a new leader amongst them could arise. He could hear them fight it out, trying to decide who was eligible to step up.

He wasn't certain if any other member of the Order had survived, but he did know one thing: that the world would be better off without the Death Eaters. Taking advantage of their vulnerability, having distracted themselves for him, he pointed his wand at their backs, and he shot each one.

Feeling no remorse, he wandered off into the forest to find help, or to die; whichever came first.

---

Hermione tried to rub out the pain from her neck, knowing there would be bruises in the morning. She looked down at the two bodies that lay there and felt herself shake.

Snape took her hand: a small gesture, really, but one that showed her that life did still exist, that through her own skin, she could feel his skin and know that it too lived. A gesture not unlike that of a father to his daughter: all is well, dear, and _I will_ take care of you.

So they walked together, hand in hand, away from the death and the heartache and the remains of what used to be, in order to start over again. Together.

The parent and the child.


End file.
